Corridor of Hope

'Corridor of Hope'

A distant race down a long dark corridor,
like life, like love sometimes;
Flitting between the dark columns and silent doorways,
the brief illumination of an open window,
the dim flicker of a bare bulb,
an echo of a hope recalled,
forever running towards some distant light
at the far end of an endless dark passage,
hoping, hoping that the light
doesn't fade before you tire,
hoping again, that the light opens out,
into fields of wild flowers, summer glory,
the sunlit joy of your own giddy story,
bursting through the doors enraptured.
The imagined transcendence of hope,
a salve in this night of the mottled soul,
the dim and dark place of flight.
A 'corridor of hope',
the narrow passage of each fateful soul,
sharp, as trust is sharp, and narrow,
keen as a razors edge,
that slides beneath your heavy feet.
Only time, and these ceaseless footsteps,
the endless pace of this running game,
keeps that sliver of hope alive.
The narrow blade of uncertainty,
that stretches on forever from beyond,
seems to grow ever longer with each fateful step,
an eternity of unrealized promise.
Who can tell where we run to,
or what we run from,
who but the shadow, knows the light,
knows the fears of those darkened columns,
or the cold steel cut of each fading hope denied,
the passage of the dark passing,
the colonnades of this fates design.
We breathe hope,
raise our weary souls
and hurtle towards that light.
Who is to say whether we will reach that open door,
before the light goes out,
or it closes for the last time,
locked, forevermore.
Will it be a dream realized,
or in some nightmare of our own design,
will we run the endless corridor?
Hope, hope remains...
but sometimes, the faster we run,
the longer that hallway becomes.

© Richard Michael Parker 2011




Many Thanks to Michelle Merle Pace for the inspiration for this piece, and use of her imagery. All copyright for the image remains the exclusive property of the artist and may not be copied, changed or transmitted without the prior consent of the artist. Thank you Michelle.

The Last Letter

The Last Letter

The last letter in an open book,
a chapter of verse and heartache,
of soft fluttering airs,
that breathe upon these waters between us.
As you cover yourself for the last time,
your eyes shine,
and in those shimmering dreams,
tears that have filled these seas,
paint your lashes with filigree's of fine dew,
a moistened remembrance of you.
The glistening sheen of your crystal eyes,
disappears within this fading vision,
a distant movement of purple and blue.
This old tattered parchment,
dry as the years of windswept sands,
in this desert of our parting,
is all that i hold of your heart now.
The tattered remnants,
flake from the edges of this memory,
and in the distance,
your song echoes out its final sweet note,
painted in the honeyed rapture,
of our orange blossomed youth.
The last letter in an open book,
hidden secrets,
a chapter and verse of heartache,
and rapture,
and you.

© Richard Michael Parker 2011 


My very greatest thanks to Raine for her gracious collaboration, and wondrous inspiration.  All artistic copyright remains the property of Inner Voice Art, and cannot be copied or transfered without prior permission. Thank You Raine :)